Waiting
by Restless And Tempted
Summary: Every midnight, without fail, it began. Every midnight, their souls searched in vain. They just kept…Waiting…


**A/N:** **Okay, so this is a little idea that has been playing in my head for a while and so I had to get it down while I had a spare minute. **

**It was kind of prompted by the episode in Season 3 of Angel called, 'Waiting In The Wings', but only very slightly.**

**It's a little different to how I usually write because it's not in the First Person, but hopefully you enjoy it.**

**I don't want to say much about it in case I ruin it so...**

**Hope you enjoy and please don't forget to review! (",)**

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**Waiting**

Such tragic desolation.

It had once been the grandest Opera House in all of Europe, prestigious and beloved.

Golden statues of ancient deities, marble columns and velvet coverings, chandeliers and endless mirrors - oh, no expense had been spared.

One could almost feel the love the architect had had for the building he had brought to life. And oh, how it had lived! It had been a world all of its own, teeming with love and pain and everything that made life so incredibly alive!

It had seen the grandest balls, the most talented singers and dancers. A world of grandeur and secrets of all kinds. A world of endless colour! Life had never stopped, not within these mighty walls. But that was so long ago…And so much had changed…

There was nothing now. Not even a flicker of light.

Every window and door was boarded and sealed tight. No one ever entered, no one ever dared.

It was as though everyone who came too close could feel it. They could feel that this place was wrong. This wretched place… Where once there had been love, there was now only pain. There were no more balls, no more galas.

Once upon a time this Opera House had breathed life, now it gasped for any breath at all, for it was filled with new secrets now, wrapped in the endlessness of death. Colour had faded to grey.

The mirrors were cracked, their reflections distorted. The paintings seemed to have bled from their frames and the statues no longer shone. The seat coverings were violently torn and the grand chandelier seemed almost embedded in the stage now. Broken, shattered. A million tiny fragments like tears.

All around there was decay, there was destruction. Each broken piece attesting to the tragedy that had gripped this place so long ago and never relinquished its hold.

For many years the building remained untouched. Then, there had been talk of renovating the place. A grand re-opening to return it to its former glory. For a brief time there had been some real hope. Then there had been an accident…Another accident. The team of men sent in to evaluate the damage and draw up plans died on their second visit to the pitiful ruin. An accident they said, a terrible accident. No one could quite explain it, but everyone understood…This place was not to be disturbed again. The promise was a silent one, but it was a promise kept.

The once vibrant Opera Garnier became a tomb.

But it had always been a tomb, in a way, and there was no peace here, there never would be. There were only restless souls.

Somewhere within its cavernous depths a clock chimed midnight. The sound seemed to float through the place, infinitely soft and yet unmistakable.

Sometimes passers-by - those that walked too close - could hear it too and would feel an inexplicable wave of sadness. The lonely sound of a clock chiming. They'd shudder and hurry on their way. How could there still be a clock to chime in that place?

No one knew what the clock heralded. No one but those bound to heed its call.

You see, the Opera House was not as empty as it seemed. Every midnight, without fail, it began. Every midnight, their souls searched in vain.

Out of the darkness came an ethereal glow, soft as candlelight.

It illuminated the ruined stage. It made it seem whole.

From the stillness there came a multitude of whispering voices.

Backstage laughter echoed as, slowly, the stage seemed to come to life.

As though they'd just been waiting for their cue, a line of delicate dancers twirled onto the stage to the sound of muffled applause.

Time seemed to turn back as the strains of an orchestra filtered through from the ether.

The auditorium was restored to its former opulent glory. But it was all a little off.

Nothing was quite solid enough to be truly real.

It was nothing but a beautiful illusion. A painful one.

Everything shimmered and flickered…everything, but the young woman standing in the wings.

She was not like the dancers who performed effortlessly before her.

She was solid. She did not flicker in and out of existence.

She seemed so very alive…though her grave lay many miles from this place.

She wore a beautifully elegant white dress.

A wedding dress. Her veil lay at her feet.

With a mass of chocolate brown curls and wide brown eyes, she was a most beautiful bride.

But those eyes were haunted. So much sadness for one who appeared so young.

Those eyes mourned a great loss. A loss that kept her there….Waiting…

She had been a celebrated soprano…once.

The angels had wept at the sound of her pure, sweet voice.

Her Angel had wept…

Oh, but that was many years ago…No one spoke of that anymore, no one dared…

Her legacy had drifted away into obscurity, but what care had she for earthly matters?

She hadn't deserved that voice…not after what she had done…

She had not sung a note after that night. Had barely spoken.

No, this little nightingale never graced the stage again.

She remained silent…Waiting…

The dance continued on stage tirelessly.

She didn't move. She never did.

Every night she came, hoping to find release. Salvation.

But she had not earned it yet.

That must be it.

That had to be the point of all this. She was to make amends.

She would not leave before then.

But it was so difficult to be disappointed every night.

To be heartbroken every night.

For every night was exactly the same…and every night he never came.

She waited for hours…for eternity.

Time no longer had any meaning here.

This place was forgotten…forsaken.

On and on the dancers went. Spinning and spinning.

It was nearly time. Nearly her cue.

She sighed. Oh, the agony that sigh held.

Her's was an ancient sorrow, unending and unbearable.

She had been alone so long now.

Suddenly the dancers stopped and drifted gracefully into the background.

It was time for the diva to take to the stage.

It was the final aria. The climax of the opera.

If she took to the stage and sang, it would be over. Finished.

All the dancers' ghostly eyes turned to her.

They seemed to urge her, silently, to step out from behind the curtain.

Little Meg was among them.

She always seemed to want to say something.

Her eyes always flickered out to the box seats and then back, but she never spoke.

She only closed her eyes as if in pain.

But what did she know of pain?

It was the young diva in the wings who suffered…because he wasn't there!

She would not go on stage. She would not sing the final song.

She would sing for no one but him!

Did he not know how she suffered?

How long she waited? How she would always wait?

She had made such terrible mistakes, she knew, but she was here now to make amends; to change the ending. She had been wrong.

She needed him. She needed to tell him that she loved him endlessly.

Heaven did not exist for her until she was with him again; until she saw his beloved face and heard his beautiful voice.

A tear trailed down her pale face.

It dropped to the floor but left no mark.

She had wept oceans and yet the floor beneath her feet remained dry.

The dancers waited, but she never sang.

She could not…

Pain radiated from the depths of her soul.

Agony.

It made the dancers recoil and fade away to nothing.

The light began to fade.

She clenched her fists, making the plain gold wedding band on her finger cut into her.

She did not bleed, but it hurt like hell.

_This _was Hell. It had to be…

This state of in-between…of nothingness!

A clock chimed.

Dawn.

It was over for another night.

He had not come, and she began to fade.

She died over and over again without him.

And then…just for a moment…

She felt something.

She always did, but every night it felt new.

Stronger than she'd ever felt it before.

Could it be? Was he here at last?

Outstretching her arms in supplication, she cried brokenly,

"Erik?"

But she was fading.

It was dawn and she was fading.

Her voice was muffled, soft.

She strained her ears to hear, but there was only silence.

With a sob, she faded away as the sun crept over the horizon.

She did not know that she was right.

He was there. Always.

Every night he was there.

But he sat in Box Five…Waiting…

He could not see her…

He never saw her.

Every night little Meg tried to tell them, tried to end it.

But could not reach them.

He waited too, but she did not know.

She did not know that just as she faded away, he heard her call.

He would always hear her call.

Rising swiftly, he cried,

"Christine?"

Before fading away with the last of the otherworldly light.

Their cries for one another seemed to resonate throughout the building.

A tragic echo that would never be silenced…and never be answered.

For while waiting in Box Five, he could not see her waiting in the wings…

But they did not know…

They just kept…

Waiting…

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**So there you have it!**

**What did ya think? **

**Please don't forget to review as I am very interested in all your opinions.**

**(And for those of you reading my story, When The Candle Flickered Out, I hope to have another update ASAP. Fear not, it is not abandoned, this year is just very, very busy. Thanks to all who are still sticking with me!)**

**x Restless And Tempted x**


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